A hug

I hugged a friend yesterday.

It was a special hug.

A much needed hug.

The friend needed the hug.

I needed to give it.

The friend did not realise they needed the hug at the time.  Nor that they were about to get a hug.  And maybe even felt a little awkward about the hug.  To others the friend appears to not be a hugging person.  

But they are.  I know.  

Because they have given me many hugs over the past 12 months.

Each one of those was a special hug.  With the hug came love.  Not that kind of love; not the love one has as a partner or lover.  But the love for a friend that expresses caring, empathy, compassion and respect.

When I got those hugs I needed that love. 

Yesterday it was my turn to hug, with that love.

Today, they rang, to thank me for the hug.  It was special.  The hug.  And the phone call.

It’s all about the value of being a real friend.  A real friend knows when a hug is needed.

It is the Real Friend currency.

                        

It all goes back to a previous blog - it's not always about you.

A tough day

It’s been a tough day today.  As tough as any of the other tough days I have had in the past six months.

If others are frustrated at my inability to move forward, to move on with a more positive air I would hope that they realise that I am no less frustrated than them; that it pains me greatly that I seem stuck in this crevasse of mournfulness.  I do not want to continue with these days of emotional slumps.  I so look forward to when I can finally look back on the past and feel nothing but warmth and happiness and joy for the things that I had.  At the present moment whenever I reflect on anything it is always tinged with enormous and heavy sadness, immense grief and with an extreme sense of loss that I cannot seem to overcome.

I try every tactic I can think of to avoid the melancholy emotions – am constantly trying to trick the mind around these moments when I feel them come along.  No matter the strategy I use they do not always allow me to suffocate them and do their best to explode in an emotional eruption of grief, loss and mourning.

Today has been one where no matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter who I see – everything I have done today has been tinged with memories of this time last year when I was doing almost the exact same thing as today but this time last year I had Tony with me, by my side.  And that's the point, he was still here.  

It’s no wonder that I try to fill my days with as much activity as possible – a tactic that does sometimes keep the emotions muffled - on a simmer rather than a boil – but whatever the activity is that I do one can guarantee it will bring back memories of Tony & I doing something similar at some time where that memory is indelible in my brain and with the memory comes the emotion.  It’s all a bugger.  

Tonight has not helped.  It’s the third night I have sat at home and watch the All Blacks play.  For twenty plus years Tony and I would be together and watch almost every All Blacks game. enjoying the highs and lows and critiquing the play as much as any other rugby spectator.  Many times we would have tickets to an All Black game and walk to Eden Park from our home and enjoy the entire atmosphere of the crowd walking to and from the game and spectator mood in the park stadium.

Sitting and watching it on television at home without him only makes the ending of the day no better than all the other experiences today where I could not help but be reminded of him.  

Presumably this reads very gloomy but it's not really - I do know this is all part of the process. I am taking myself off to a counselor who is being proactive in helping me be reasonably balanced about coping strategies. I do laugh at myself at times and shake my head and wonder at the emotional, sensitive, grown-up-child-like adult I am.

And there have been some highs today too – so I must not over look those. 

Tony would have grinned at my admiring the male eye-candy at the diving pool this morning.  So there is still some normality in my life. 

I also spent an hour or so being entertained by little Anthony this afternoon - Tony's three-month old namesake.  A tiny child was the perfect antidote for a disconsolate soul.

And I received two very nice emails today from very different people from different aspects of my life – both emails making some very complimentary comments to me, about me.  That doesn't happen often so was rather chuffed and immediately thought how proud Tony would have felt if he could have read them as he absolutely loved it when he ever heard someone compliment his wife and always acknowledged how proud he was of me.  

When I read these emails I so wanted him to have a read of them too, knowing the pleasure he would get.  I wondered to myself whether he had internet access wherever he was?  Then perhaps I could email them on to him. I could merely forward the emails on to him – maybe to Tony.Jackson@heaven.com  or maybe Tony.Jackson@godshouse.com   

Do you think he would get them?

                                     

                                             

On a lighter & totally superficial note ...

Went for a walk today.   It was a beautiful day and I needed to get outside and feel the sun shine on my soul.

I had been under the weather for the past four days and apart from some delightful light relief given to me by friends last night I had been feeling quite down and of low spirits;  feeling sorry for myself I guess for having yet another setback in trying to move forward with life.  I figured a walk in the sun would be enhanced all the more by making it at the sea shore.  Hence off I headed to do the short and manageable coastal walk from Takapuna to Milford beaches. 

It was stunning.  It was the perfect elixir for this solo soul.  The sunshine, cool as it was, was heart warming;  the sound of the tide was melodic to the ears;  the aroma of the sea water seemed to clear the sinuses; and the colours and clarity of the visa more beautiful than one can imagine.

My mind wished the walk was double the distance but the body and it’s weariness from this virus it has been carrying let me know it was more than long enough.  Therefore it was a case of stopping and resting at various points – to sit on a rock, a wall or a conveniently placed park bench.  Everyone loves to people watch and what a better place to watch the world and people pass by than at the seaside.

And there were a lot of people out there today, enjoying the same environs – it made me look warmly back to only a month ago on my walk from Bondi to Bronte beaches and back. where I had noted the surfers, swimmers, speedos and butt cracks.

There were no swimmers, Speedos or butt cracks today but there was one surfer brave enough to test the waters.  Besides, sunny as it was, it was far too cold for butt cracks and Speedos to be exposed.

Could not help but note how many North Shore people have dogs – and walk their dogs along the beach – and how most take with them the little plastic bags to pick up their doggie-doo.  And how some of them don’t.  

As I meandered back to where I had parked the car I diverted to a seat on the shore front and decided to sit and watch the world pass by a little longer.  

Had been there a few minutes when a fairly middle-aged gentleman with a little fluffy dog walked up and plonked himself on the other end of the park bench.  I greeted him with a pleasant ‘hello’ and felt compelled to lean over and pat his little pet happily wagging its tail at me.  Thus began a conversation about how beautiful the day was, how lucky we were and how he comes down most days to walk the dog along the beach.

It was all very pleasant.  The man was pleasantly chatty, the little dog pleasantly cute and the air pleasantly fresh.  And the conversation pleasantly pleasant.  Which made it all the more painful to avoid looking at the man’s hair.  The more we lightly chatted the more I couldn’t take my eyes off his hair.  It was long, and bushy and one could not help but look directly at it.  I am not talking about the hair on his head – I am talking about the hair growing out of his ears and his nose.  He had an abundance of it.  And it was truly remarkable that it seemed to be flourishing so well in such profusion.  It was thick and wiry.  And long.

No matter how hard I tried I could not look anywhere else on his face except at his nose hairs, then when he turned side wards, to his ear hairs. I looked and nodded as he spoke, but I barely heard a word he was speaking due to my reflecting on his magnificent growth.  It was so distracting.

And yes, I thought about how I wished so many of my lady friends were here with me now.  Those lady friends who over the years have had many a chuckle at the expense of men and excessive male crook and nanny old-age-hair.

I have since reflected on how fortunate I was that Tony always ensured his maturing hair growth was always kept trim and unseen - silly little thing really, but still a reality - just as I kept my body hair to a minimum.  It wasn’t until Tony became unwell with the tumour that I discovered he actually owned a cute little gadget kit to maintain such grooming. Just as us ladies have our own Lady Shave.

Us ladies spend our whole adult life going to great pains to check for under arm hair or hair growth on the legs.  Imagine, men folk, if you sat down on a park bench next to a lady sporting a full growth of leg hair and who scratches her head to expose a full thatch of under arm hair.  You would be just as bemused as I was today.

Well the pleasant conversation came to a natural end when the man’s wife walked up and they and their lovely dog meandered happily off.  Clearly she and the dog loves him, me thought, him and his lovely crop of hair.  Clearly she knows beauty is not skin deep. Clearly she is not superficial, like me.   

Oh well, I thought, best take myself home as soon the sun will set – it’s only a hairs breath away.

Home for a shower, and a shave.  Hair, hair.